A few years back there was a book published called "The Millionaire Next Door", the theme of which was that most of the people in this country who had money were not C.E.O.'s, partners in lawfirms, or celebrities, but were instead average people with ordinary careers who had, for one reason or another, gotten lucky. By that, I mean they had saved money, invested it well, purchased Nissans rather than Mercedes, and had pretty much lived within themselves. But for the most part, those people had owned real property, kept it for years, not as an investment but as a home for their families, and sold it at a huge profit.

Well, its safe to say that I have never lived within my means, my stock portfolio consists mainly of busted tech stocks (ie. Palm), and I drive a sports car well out of my price range. However, I do own a condo, which as luck would have it, is situated in the West San Fernando Valley, in Warner Center, smack dab in the middle of the hottest real estate market in the country. When I put it up for sale last week, at the advice of my broker, I listed it at $204k, which I thought was an absurd price, way over what other units in the area sold for; this is, after all, little more than a single bedroom apartment attached to a collection of freaks that constitute the H.O.A. I thought it would go for $130k, which is more than what my neighbor sold their place for two years ago after they had done significant remodeling (the only remodeling I did was to install fungus in my shower).

Within a day of listing, I got a bid for $196, and after some quibbling, got them to raise it to $198. Ecstatic, but wary of the misfortune that always afflicts me whenever I stare imminent fortune squarely in the eye, I began figuring how much I would have to play with once I got rid of the payoff balance on my note (about $87k) and paying off my remaining debts (incl. my student loans). Then other offers began pouring in, from between $200k and $220k. Jeez, if I hold out any longer, I can eventually sell the place for about what a mansion in the Hollywood Hills would go for. Thinking about that, I realized that I'm never going to be a "millionaire next door", cause the only thing I will ever do with money is burn it, spend it on leggy brunettes and get drunk.